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- Me, Myself, and I
- A man had woolen eyes, he couldn’t see very well, I knitted them into a great big ball and rolled them down the hill. When he saw what I had done he said where are my eyes, I gave him two new proper ones so he could see alright. He came right up to me and punched me on the knee “now give me back my woolen ones I like the way I saw“. I ran to the bottom of the hill and brought the big ball back, he made them into woolen eyes and placed them where they belong. Now if you see a man with a couple of woolen eyes, run away with a saucy grin he can see as well as you.
- Voxtrot, Hefner, Lucky Lucky Pigeons, Indelicates, Electric pop group, Silence At Sea, Camera Obscura, The Organ, Darren Hayman and The Secondary Modern, Half Man Half Biscuit, Arcade Fire, loads more
- Stand by me, Remember the Titans, Take the money and run
- NFL, Football, Tennis and Snooker
- Scared Of
- Brian Urlacher, Ray Lewis and John Barnes getting his own TV show
- Become the best fisherman blaenrhondda has ever seen.
- Herman Hesse, Jack Kerouac, Old Tom Morris, Bruce Lee
- When you begin to remember that years have passed and things that used to make life worthy have transformed into the absolute power of ignorance, you begin to save those memories that in their agony never stop breathing at your ear.
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1. Rancher Tache
As if whipped up by a dust cloud only found in the deep south he stood there singing glorified nationalist anthems before falling into a deep sleep that ended in a wet dream. But this psycho wasn’t always this way. As a boy he was a keen fisherman and a veteran of the rivers, no one could have foreseen such a serene boy losing his head in such a way. They say one night after spending some time with a close friend the sun suddenly disappeared behind Pen Pych, eerie thin clouds lingered around the full moon like youngsters around the stands and all of a sudden he was lost in his own mind. Crazy thoughts raced around his mind, memories and faces, each taking him on a new path just like a level on micro machines. 3 days later he awoke and answered the question that was asked to him just before he went into the trance. Suddenly a thin line of hair appeared on his top lip and he instantly transformed into a dummy straight from the window of Topman. He slashed his hair right back and left the house without a word.
It is said that he spends his days dreaming up all kinds of erotic fairytale s involving teachers, secretaries and housewife’s and at night he posts notes through Rene’s letter box in the hope that she may include them in her section of the Rhondda Leader. These notes contain all manner of tales and congratulation letters. One such note read:
Today, whilst enjoying a somewhat peaceful game of ‘I spy with my bonk eye’ a strange figure appeared in the distance. I instantly chopped a tree down and wore it so I wouldn’t be spotted. Due to my fine disguise I was able to get a closer look and was able to confirm my first thought. Yes, Its Dodo playing in the sand pit.”
Although he is not seen much at all he can occasionally be spotted sitting in the grass over the park, some say trying to reach his soul mate H from steps, some say he’s using telepathic skills to talk to L.C (Les Coalz) and others conclude he’s up to his usual antics and use the phrase “he’ll go blind doing that”.
The thing that sets this lunatic apart from the other ones, the defining characteristic in his outlandish arsenal is his involvement in the creating of the ‘Together Forever! The Rick Astley Experience’ group on facebook. Here he unravels his secret love for the subtle, velvety voice of Astley which has been kept inside for so many years. He may have strayed from the concrete path a little and maybe fallen out of love with his sanity but he’s a good old boy.
0 Comments 293 weeks
So winter is in without there really being a summer. I don’t mind cause I kind of like the freezing winter mornings, I like to get up early to see the frost on the trees (oh, lovely). Its occurred to me that life is much more of a real experience when you are somewhat off the rails. Generally people in the Rhondda are as good as dead, dreamless, loveless, anti-adventurous are just a few words that come to mind. The men have a disease called inferior twat disease that makes them believe in order to be the man they have to get huge muscles and in nearly every case of this common disease they take the easy route to muscles. On the way home from the gym where they took numerous steroids they stop for possibly the saddest treatment in the book. They spend probably twice as much time on the sun bed as they do in the gym, woo what great men we have in the Rhondda. The women are generally slag’s with a few exceptions, Mullet doesn’t mind though. Where are the real people hiding? If there are any that is. People now just get a job cause they are taught that money is the most important part of life. Its different now to what it was, people worked cause they had to back in the day so they could travel and go and meet some crazy friend they had met once before while passing through somewhere. Now people wouldn’t go up the street to talk to their best friend, never mind working for months to save enough money to go and see them across the other side of the country. What’s happened to the characters, the story tellers, the crazy bastards, the outsiders and the people who are generally excited for life. Did they ever exist or was it all a dream?
Dream or not, my desire to meet such crazy, such real kings among runaways is louder than ever and I fully except the view that I’m off the rails, I’ll wear the badge to show my delight. I fell off the rails and landed on a path not walked on by many, just enough feet to make it a path i guess. People have no time to listen to music or to watch film in depth due to work commitments so without a question automatically reject anything unpopular and robots are born. People don’t spend enough time on their own and therefore their self knowledge is none. A person without self knowledge is a robot, they follow things blind and don’t ask the necessary questions. By now I’m probably sounding like Krishnamurti in my ramblings but never mind, could be worse I guess.
Maybe I’m just a cynical pessimistic twat but I guess that’s a whole lot better than being just a twat. On the subject of the ‘T’ word, Dai who was stamped with it probably deservingly so (I’m not calling you one this time J) has been spotted by a reliable source at one of his usual hangouts, but this time with his girlfriend (I‘m not having a go cause you left me for a girl either J). Dai has always been known for his love of the not so beautiful game, he’s owned a season ticket for 12 years now at the Ospreys ground and now it seems he’s sharing his “dive on it” chants and is turning people just like the zombies in the horror movies. Watching it on your own is one thing, but when you start introducing people to it, it usually spells trouble. But who can blame him, football Is descending into a farce, there’s no loyalty left in the game and if Arsene Wenger goes, then so will the saviour of the British game. So although he deserves a lot of stick for holding a season ticket he can take pride in the fact that this game was once blessed by the exceptional man of a man that is Merion.
Not much about Crow in the rumour mill of late but remarkably he’s had money in his phone for about a month now and he‘ll text you back even though he has to pay for it, unlike someone I know who gets free texts but simply ignores me. Recent pictures have shown him trying to disguise the signed hat that he bought from Orson with an Anthill mob costume (look on his facebook to see it). Recently he was also s
0 Comments 295 weeks
With the weather being so bad, I’ve found a lot of time to think about things, that I possibly wouldn’t have, had the summer turned up. I’ve been wondering if the weather dictates feelings or if its just age making its first mark on me. The innocence seems to have faded; I’m left wondering where the time went. Melancholy feelings creep into the system as games of old are being played in the park by the younger generation. Summer was once a magical time, but now it seems we have lost our imagination and sense of adventure. Maybe it’s the fact that summer is yet to show but I cant help feeling that we’ve witnessed our last true summer as the outsiders.
With the fear of change I believe we have changed, we always mocked the older generation for falling at the age barrier and for drinking as if it makes you cool or something. Now we are seemingly stepping on stones we would never have trodden on before and no one seems to have noticed. I guess that’s what’s happened in the Rhondda and that’s why it is in the state it is in today. People have resented things so much that they have done the same thing without noticing the change. Generation after generation have fallen to the curse of the valleys and no one has quite found the cure for evil.
Adding insult to this melancholy, my attempts of assembling a band are falling off a cliff I haven’t even climbed without a sound. Guess I haven’t found out yet where I’m bound
Dai is refusing to buy either a Bass, Violin, Harp or an Accordion and any attempts of a “we’ll start a band without you” fall at the first hurdle or matchstick depending how you see it. Soon his girlfriend will be spiked with messages of the “ Dai secretly desires a bass guitar as something to do in university” kind and soon he will master this somewhat forced occupation, I hope. Dai by the way is currently on a major loosing streak, having repeatedly lost to me in snooker for about 2 months. This may be the underlying factor in his decision to start a smear campaign against our yet-to-be-formed band. He’ll be sorry one day, when we are emptying places full of stripy tops, bad tattoos and highlighted commoners.
Crow on the other hand is raring to go with a new guitar on the way, but one obstacle
Stands in the way. Yes he’s under it. Crow has fallen hostage to the huge thumb that has conquered Dai and Goatson in the past and seems powerless to defeat.
On a positive note, I think Crow will be interested in a band despite the thumb he carries on his back and all that’s left now is finding a suitable Riot Grrrl for our band. It seems almost impossible but we can hope though, rite?
0 Comments 315 weeks